Lizzie Lazarus
by redisthenewblackington
Summary: In continuation of This isn't Andy Warhol's Factory, Red and Liz set off to locate The Fulcrum, starting with a journey to Nunavut, where Lizzie has a very fruitful memory recovery procedure. Lizzington!
1. Chapter 1

AN: This is a continuation of another fic, 'This isn't Andy Warhol's Factory'. Formerly TiAWF's Chapter Four, it's now Chapter One of Lizzie Lazarus.

The title is a play on the Sylvia Plath poem, "Lady Lazarus" (and parts of it are dispersed throughout chapter two). The theme of repeatedly being resurrected/revived, poked and prodded, and the center of attention, is rather fitting IMO.

You don't HAVE to read This isn't Andy Warhol's Factory in order to pick up on this, but I'd recommend giving it a try.

Thank you for reading and reviewing! I hope you guys like it!

-...-...-...-

One week later...

"I still can't believe Dembe commandeered Braxton's chopper," Liz gushed, shaking her head incredulously.

Red grinned and turned his head towards his friend, currently seated near the front of his Gulfstream, wearing headphones and watching a John Hughes film. "Dembe is a closeted Renaissance man. He has many talents!"

"But he's a little less boisterous about them than some people," she replied wryly, eyebrows arched in suggestion.

"Now, that's not fair, sweetheart. I never bragged about my best talents before you got to experience them first hand, did I?"

"Brag? No. Reference? Yes."

"'Referencing' and 'bragging' are not the same thing."

"Fine. Fine," she conceded.

With an abruptly-somber tone, Liz changed the subject. "Do you really think this will work?"

He shrugged and sighed, wary to disclose the next potentially-catastrophic puzzle piece.

"Honestly, I'm not very hopeful. The outcome is dubious at best."

"So it's our hail mary."

"More or less... I'm surprised that you haven't asked how I know Dr. Gillette."

"Just sparing myself another round of frustration. I didn't think you'd answer." She looked away as she said it, avoiding the reactive expression that her mind's eye could see perfectly.

Through a stiffened jaw, he replied, "I suppose I deserve that... On a related note, I do need to share a few things with you before we go into today's procedure."

Liz's shook her head. "And you waited until we were in the air to tell me, so I'm guessing it's something bad."

"I'll let you be the judge of that."

"Spill it!"

"Lizzie, there's a reason that you can't remember anything before the fire. All of your memories were intentionally erased in a procedure that was essentially the reverse of what we're doing today, and by the same man."

Her lips parted as she absorbed the information. "But who would do that? Why?"

"Your nightmares."

"My nightmares?"

"I put Sam in touch with Dr. Gillette."

"But you want The Fulcrum. You were going to come back for it after your recovery. Why would you even..."

So, she'd been intentionally robbed of her identity? Was he in fact more concerned about something other than The Fulcrum? Was there something else, something bigger, that he did NOT want her to recall? If the reversal procedure worked as well as the original, she'd find out soon.

"Sam and I were much closer back then. We spoke almost every day, even if only by phone. After taking you in, much of our conversations turned to you... He told me about your nightmares, but they were worse back then, so much worse than you can even recall. He was worried sick."

"The music box you- that's why you knew about The Anniversary Waltz..."

"We didn't know how well it would work, or even if it would work at all, but it was considered a low-risk procedure. Our only goal was to block your traumatic memories, not all of them. Not your whole life."

He held her steady gaze, his rheumy eyes pleading for understanding.

Continuing, he added, "I set up the meeting, and Sam brought you to him. Afterwards, you were remarkably unrattled by the confusion of not knowing anything, 'almost like a newborn,' as Sam described it. I was in Western Angola at the time, but that was before I bought my Gulfstream. I was unable to go with you guys."

Liz seemed to have suddenly developed the ability to hear him out before exploding in rage.

After a grateful pause, Red continued, "And while the outcome was unexpected, it also became clear that we we'd been given an opportunity to better protect you. It was far safer for you to not know anything at all, and by that time, Sam had come to care for you a great deal, so he decided to keep you in the dark. That meant that I had to back off and stay back, but it was Sam's decision, and I respected it. Every trace of me, every talisman, save a few well-hidden photographs - he either gave them to me or threw them away. Over the years, I stopped by occasionally to visit, but always while you were either in school or Summer camp."

"So you became my anonymous benefactor."

"I did what I could. It was more than Sam ever asked, but always less than I wanted. You can't suture any kind of wound with money, and certainly none as deep as ours - not unless money itself IS the wound."

"But why? Why would you risk never finding The Fulcrum?"

"That wasn't the difficult decision that you seem to think it was. At that age, my daughter thankfully suffered very few nightmares, but I witnessed her fear. I held her. I consoled her. I ached for her."

As the tears began to well up in her eyes, mirroring his own, Red relaxed only the smallest bit.

He continued, "But besides that, I accepted the potential loss as your retribution. Had I not been there, your parents wouldn't have died, at least not then. I owed you. Having a small beacon of hope to possibly help, how could I not?"

He took her hand in his, and though she didn't pull back, she also didn't move it at all, leaving it limp in his fingers.

The revelation made her struggle to articulate her thoughts. "But Sam, he..." she leaned forward slightly and canted her head. "How do I remember the song?"

"You remember it like you remember anything else from childhood."

"No, I, I mean... He hummed it when I had the nightmares, so if all of my memories were erased, then why do I remember it?"

Red squeezed her hand. "Because the procedure didn't make the nightmares go away. Your darkest memories cowered where they could, in the darkest recesses of your mind, and only in sleep could you subconsciously mull it over. Like I said though, they were far worse before. According to Sam, as soon as you returned home, they dropped off sharply."

After an interminable moment of both silence and stillness, Liz finally squeezed his hand. "I just need to work it over in my mind."

As much as it pained him, for her sake, Red asked, "Would you like a moment alone? I can move to another seat, if you'd like."

Radio silence.

Was she trying to say "yes" without verbalizing it?

Reluctantly, he shifted his weight to stand.

At his movement, she immediately sprang to life to stop him. "No! Stay, please." With a heavy sigh, she snuggled closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

Red's eyes flooded in relief, but a swift succession of blinks kept them from overflowing. With their minds racing in tandem, another long silence took over.

Little did she know that he still had another enormous revelation-an even bigger one, perhaps, but he'd keep that to himself for at least another day.

"So, tell me... assuming this works and we find The Fulcrum, then how exactly will we extract the intel?"

"I have no earthly idea, but I do have someone to handle that for us. Do you remember Boracove? You met him during the mole hunt."

"Um, vaguely. The shredder man?"

"Yes, among other things. He's one of my best computer-technology-mumbo-jumbo guys. Reliable. Loyal. Indebted to me."

"Hah!" she huffed, "Who isn't?"

Red didn't miss a beat. "You."

Yeah, she walked right into that one.

"While we're having such a frank conversation, I also want to thank you, Lizzie, for saving my life on that freighter gulag. I should have told you that sooner."

"But you're still mad that I showed up in the first place."

"Mad? No. I'm distraught." The crease in his brow suggested that he meant it.

"You can't blame me for wanting to balance the scale. One day, you're gonna have to accept my gratitude for saving me first."

He shook his head. "Don't hold your breath."

"Then maybe YOU should get YOUR memory of the fire erased."

"Hah!" Red chuckled mirthlessly. "Maybe I should."

-...-...-...-

As they clambered out of the jet Lizzie surveyed the landscape through the open hangar. She tightened the belt on her parka and shoved her hands into her pockets. "You know, it's pretty funny trying to imagine Sam carting a little girl around Nunavut."

"It was part of The Northern Territories back then," Red replied.

Smartass. "You know what I mean."

"I do, but I think you'd be surprised. He wasn't allowed in the room during the procedure. Would you like to know what he did in the meantime?"

Oh god.

"I don't know... Do I? Um, sure. Tell me before I change my mind."

Red laughed and tipped his head far enough to the side to kiss her without bumping her with the brim of his hat. "Nothing sordid, I assure you. He met a mute woman who only communicated via throat singing. He never got her name, never understood a thing she tried to say, but he found her hypnotic."

"Uh, throat singing?"

"They only spent three hours together, but he was quite taken by her."

"Throat singing?"

This man. Maddening.

He ignored her again. "You know, Bjiork once collaborated with an Inuit throat singer."

"Every time you tell me a story about my dad, I find myself thinking that you knew a completely different man. Your Sam sounds a lot more like you."

"We're all multi-faceted, sweetheart."

She gently nudged his ribs and grinned. "Some of us more than others."

They forged their way across the bumpy, icy airstrip, upwind and on foot. Liz found it hard to believe that the region was accessible by plane. A chopper seemed better-suited for take-offs and landings.

"But why here? Why Nunavut?"

"You didn't think Dr. Gillette's research was legal, did you?"

"Of course not! Don't be silly. I know you, but this is pretty extreme."

"The facility's research is incredibly advanced. One day, Dr. Gillette's discoveries in particular could rock the world of neuroscience, and soon after, make a permanent impact on mankind as a whole. Until then, protecting it from the wrong hands is paramount, and I doubt you need me to explain why. The brain is called 'the black box' for a reason."

"But what if he dies first, before his research is complete?"

"His research will never be complete, but his wife and children are part of his team. They'll continue working on it without him."

She pressed her lips together and nodded. "I hope they're more trustworthy than my family... except Sam. Um, that came out wrong. I just mean, you know, since I didn't know them, is all."

Red gave her another kiss, but despite the very brief contact of his lips, through them she could feel the tension of his jaw. "I understand," he replied.

Roughly fifty yards ahead, she spied an enormous, bearded man watching them. "Tell me Paul Bunyan over there isn't our doctor friend."

"No, relax. That's just Pukulria. He owns the snowmobiles." Red pointed to a nearby lean-to and placed a hand on the small of her back. "They're in there."

"'Pu-kul-ria?' Interesting name."

"It means 'bone chewer'."

"How reassuring."

When the man was only twenty yards ahead, Dembe gently pinched the back of her parka, signaling her to pause while Red continued walking towards him.

"So," she began, "You spend every day with The Concierge of Crime. Never a dull moment, is there?"

The often-stoic bodyguard grinned and shook his head. "Never."

They watched while Red warmly greeted the bear of a man with a suitable bear hug. Within a minute, he strutted back with two sets of keys in hand. Linking arms with her, he declared, "All set!"

"So... you know how to drive a snowmobile?"

"Agent Keen, your apprehension is insulting."

She nonchalantly shrugged and looked away. "So.. it's like a jet ski, I guess?"

"You'll love it, but I do wish you'd taken my advice about wearing better gloves." He tossed a key to Dembe and mounted the nearest snowmobile. Liz smiled and watched him start it, nonchalantly gripping the handles as if he did it every day.

She had an idea. A good one, too.

Christ, did he really have to look so sexy all the time?

She swung her leg over and settled in behind him. "Oh, I'll be fine." Nuzzling her cheek against the back of his head, she wrapped her arms around his waist and shoved her hands into his coat pockets.

"Very well played, Lizzie."

She wiggled her fingers and moved her hands everywhere that she could reach. Normally, she was a little jealous of men for having larger pockets. She could barely fit a tube of chapstick into some of hers.

Now, on the other hand, she found herself presented with an opportunity to tease Red, and yes, she was more than happy to take it.

The ride wasn't as smooth as she'd expected, but it was exhilarating. Red was right. She loved it. For almost the entire forty-five minute ride, she toyed with him mercilessly.

When they arrived at their destination, rosy-cheeked and tingling, Red grabbed her hands and twisted around to growl, "You're going to pay for that."

She leaned in and lightly flicked her tongue over his earlobe as she replied, "Good. I was counting on it."

He held her hand as they crossed the short distance to a man standing guard at the door. A wave of apprehension washed over her. "I don't have to do it alone, do I? You said they didn't let Sam in for the procedure."

"No, I'll be with you from start to finish, even if Dembe has to hold a gun to the doctor's head the entire time."

Liz hoped that the guard hadn't heard Red over the sound of the blustery wind. Her eyes shined as they searched his and she simply replied, "Thank you."


	2. Chapter 2

AN : This chapter gives an emotional, more-detailed account of Lizzie's flashback.

Oh yeah, and while the story and the flashback are derived from canon hints, lines, and events, none of it runs perfectly parallel to the show.

Flashbacks are in italics.

The lines of poetry are all from Lady Lazarus, by Sylvia Plath.

Thanks to all who read and review! I love you guys :)

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING, and I'm not profiting from this monetarily either.

-...-...-...-

It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day

To the same place, the same face, the same brute

Amused shout:

'A miracle!'

That knocks me out.

-...-...-...-

After passing through security, the trio was met in the lobby by Dr. Gillette himself. While perfectly polite, business-like greetings were exchanged between the men, the doc was positively giddy about seeing Liz again.

As he lead them through the mostly-underground, labyrinthine building, Liz slowed her gait in order to put some distance between herself and the others, knowing that Red would follow suit. She whispered into his ear, "Is it just me, or does he look like Alan Fitch, only twenty years younger, and a few inches taller?"

"Lizzie, it is ALWAYS just you," Red purred. "It is for me, at least." He paused to wait for her usual 'you know what I mean!' response, but she wasn't in the mood to play along, so he relented and gave his real answer. "He does."

Most of the rooms they passed had either plexiglass observation windows or open doors, and were furnished sparsely, without any discernable purpose.

Institutional.

Monochromatic.

Cold.

One particular room stood out from the others. Enormous in size, it appeared to be part indoor playground and part classroom. Inside, Liz spied three young children climbing up the wrong end of a slide while a beautiful, middle-aged woman looked on.

Odd. Children were the last thing that Liz would have expected to see in a remote neuroscience research facility, but on second thought, she was also a child on her first visit, regardless of the fact that she couldn't remember it.

"Would you excuse me for just one moment, please?" Dr. Gillette asked without waiting for a reply. He stepped into the large room and addressed the woman, "Anya, have the children eaten yet?"

She turned towards him, smiled, and shook her head. She had very high, wide cheekbones, caramel-colored skin, and raven-black hair that hung to her elbows. Though her eyes were small and deep-set, their piercing, crystal-blue corneas stood out from a distance.

"Weather's nice today. After lunch, I'd like you to take them outside for a little while, and bring Miska too. They could all use some natural vitamin D."

(This is considered nice weather?)

She nodded.

"Thank you, Anya."

She nodded again and smiled.

Dr. Gillette redirected his attention back to the group. "We offer free daycare for our employees' children, but most don't have any. It's a small crowd in a big place. Does any of this look familiar to you, Elizabeth?"

Liz shook her head. "No."

When they arrived at her room, Red paused at the door to have a word with Dembe. "I'll call if we need anything, but you're free to go anywhere or do anything you'd like. You could also stay here, if you'd prefer."

After a moment of consideration, he chose the former and offered a reassuring smile. "Good luck, Agent Keen."

-...-...-...-

There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge

For the hearing of my heart—

It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge

For a word or a touch

Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.

-...-...-...-

Both Red and Liz underestimated the amount of time needed for preliminary paperwork, data collection, and testing. For each action, Dr. Gillette provided a detailed commentary on what, how, and why it was being done.

The reason for his exuberant greeting soon became clear. "So far, recovering memories after an intentional erasure hasn't produced many optimal results, and none have ever been attempted with a twenty-plus-year gap between them. Please don't be discouraged, however. Your memory removal was the most effective trial to date, and your mind still appears remarkably pliable. We may have another unprecedented success today."

"Pliable?" Red asked. It sounded insulting, somehow.

Like gullible.

He didn't like it.

"Sensitive. Highly reactive. Intuitive. Manifestations of the pliable mind are many and highly varied."

As Red took the liberty of asking questions on her behalf, Liz realized that he'd never actually asked to stay by her side. He simply made the decision for himself and followed through, but it worked out in everyone's favor.

"I'll use this central line to administer the injections needed as we go along, guiding you through and pulling you back to the present when necessary."

She swallowed and nodded, accepting while not quite understanding.

"Now," he continued, "If you have something tied to the memory, or to that night- something tangible to use as a visual focal point, it could prove helpful."

"No. I don't."

"Will her eyes be open?"

"At first, yes, but they typically close at some point, while the mind stitches memory fragments back together."

"If we'd known that, then we would have found something to bring along," Red replied. His tone was level, but Liz caught the brief, telltale spasm below his left eye. He was pissed. She didn't blame him.

"It isn't necessary."

"Well, I was there. She can use me." He lifted his chin to meet the doctor's eyes, silently daring him to object, or else.

"Okay Elizabeth, just pick one specific part of Mr. Reddington to focus on, rather than all of him. This reduces the amount of visual information to be processed."

Red threw her a knowing smirk that seemed to say, 'should I just stand up to make this easier?' but he held his tongue. She narrowed her eyes and stifled a giggle as she watched his smirk turn into a smile.

How quickly their moods could change!

Seconds later, he sombered both his tone and expression as he gave Dr. Gillette his last question, "Okay, should we get started?"

-...-...-...-

So, so, Herr Doktor.

So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,

I am your valuable,

The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.

I turn and burn.

Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

-...-...-...-

"I'm going to take you back to that night, and as we go along, you'll fill in the details, with the goal being to find The Fulcrum." Dr. Gillette directed.

Red scooted closer, holding her hand in his own, stroking her scar with his thumb. Gradually, he leaned in further, his eyes hovering only inches from hers. He intentionally relaxed his focus, making her features blur so that hopefully, she could look deeply into his eyes without arousing either of them.

He likened the effort to holding one's breath while running.

Flying in the face of a biological imperative.

It wasn't easy.

"Elizabeth, let's go back to the night of the fire, twenty-six years ago, but before it started... I want you to relax all of the muscles in your body... Pretend that you can float... As you float, all of the tension leaves your body. Tension floats, too, but it floats away from you... Now, I want you to breathe in...and out. Good. All of the tension is floating away... You can't even feel it anymore..."

Without first-hand knowledge of Dr. Gillette's success, this was the moment in which Red would have discounted him as a charlatan. That little hypnagogic incantation sounded as if it had been pulled from every theatrical performance on the subject. It seemed so... contrived. Clichéd.

"All you can feel is yourself, making the image of yourself clearer and clearer... Focus on that image of yourself- Only it's not you today. It's you twenty-six years ago. You can see her perfectly, that little girl. I'm going to ask the little girl to look around. Are you ready? Three... two... one."

-...-...-...-...-

Ash, ash—

You poke and stir.

Flesh, bone, there is nothing there—

A cake of soap,

A wedding ring,

A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer

Beware

Beware.

-...-...-...-...-

"Where are you right now?" Dr. Gillette asked.

Lizzie's response came back soft and airy. "House."

"Where in the house? What room?"

"Coat closet."

"What do you see?"

"Can't."

"Do you hear anything?"

She nodded, "Yelling."

At that, she began to whimper, tightening her grip on Red's hand as her face crumpled like scrap paper. She opened her mouth as if to scream, but no sound came out, and she slipped in deeper.

_***After a loud, persistent knock on the front door, Lizzie was scooped up by a strong, faceless man. He spun around in a panicked circle before hastily placing her in the nearest hiding spot- the coat closet. _

_"Lizzie, this is extremely important. I need you to STAY IN HERE." _

_She clutched her stuffed white rabbit to her chest, lips quivering... silent. _

_"No matter what, DO NOT COME OUT. Stay right here until I come back to get you." His voice was barely discernable over the continued pounding at the door. ***_

"Can you tell me what they're yelling about?" Dr. Gillette asked.

Though her eyes had closed, Red rested his forehead against hers, as if he could smooth the process by directly transferring his own memories.

"Me," she replied.

_***Every inscrutable white noise vanished suddenly, reducing her world to only the sounds of the man and woman having an argument. Sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up to her chest, Lizzie alternated between pressing her ear to the door to listen, and covering her ears while humming to block it out. _

_Woman: Did you really think I wouldn't come for Masha? Did you think you could get away with this? That I wouldn't find you? _

_Man: Her name is ELIZABETH._

_Woman: MASHA! _

_Man: You can stop. She's not here. _

_Woman: Listen, you're in big trouble._

_Man: Because of you!***_

"Just listen. They can't find you and they can't hurt you, but maybe they can tell you where to find The Fulcrum." Dr. Gillette instructed.

Liz pulled her knees up to her chest and rocked back and forth, shaking her head.

Red had to back off slightly in order to prevent her from accidentally head-butting him and hurting herself. He placed a hand at the back of her neck, fingers threaded through her hair.

He tried to ground her.

He tried to soothe.

As far as he could tell,

he failed.

(Privately, in his mind, Red stared down the demons from twenty-six years ago, one of which was himself, and another, the fire. 'IF YOU WANT HER, YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO FIGHT ME. FIGHT ME!')

The monitor's low whir was suddenly replaced by an insistent, loudly- beeping alarm.

"What is that? What's happening? Is she okay?" Red asked, eyes widened and brow creased with worry. Stress tugged at the corners of every syllable that slipped from his lips.

"Her heart rate and BP are elevated a little higher than we want, but it's okay. That's my signal to bring her back and give her a break." He emptied a syringe into the line. "This will only take a few seconds."

The thrashing stopped, and Liz stretched her legs out, still panting heavily, catching her breath.

Red closed the gap between them once more. As her eyelids began to flutter, his widened further.

The present-tense came into focus, and her eyes, now opened wide, delved into his in search of more clues. "Who... who's Masha?" she asked.

"You were."

"Elizabeth, you're doing great. For now, I don't want you to speak or ask any more questions. Just try to breathe and relax. You don't have enough pieces yet to get the right picture, but we're getting there. I'm going to fetch you some water, and in a few minutes, we'll start again." The doctor's tone was well-practiced but reassuring just the same, and she nodded.

Noting the thin sheen of sweat covering her face, while waiting for the doctor's return, Red used a small cloth to blot across her forehead and cheeks, mindful of the electrodes and wires placed at her temples.

When she finished the water, he leaned in to give her his eyes once again, this time allowing himself to stare back. Another small syringe was emptied into her line, and as the world around her slowed, Liz quickly slipped back under.

"Okay Elizabeth, we're going back to the night of the fire again. You're still hiding in the coat closet, listening to an argument. Can you hear them now?"

Again, her face crumpled as she nodded. "Yes," and her eyes closed.

_***Lizzie squeezed the stuffed bunny against her chest and bit her lip until it bled. The metallic sting barely registered. _

_Man: You told them!_

_Woman: YES, I did. I told them. _

_Man: You were spying on me? It was your job to spy on me?_

_Woman: Yes. NO! I didn't mean to. I was trying to protect you because I love you. _

_Man: Protect me?_

_Woman: You have to give them The Fulcrum._

_Man: If I do, they'll kill me. _

_Woman: They'll kill you if you don't. _

_Man: Well, it's not here. It's the only thing keeping me alive. They're coming now, aren't they?_

_The sickening, splintered sound of a wooden door frame splitting was recognizable to even a four-year-old. ***_

"Elizabeth, are they still yelling now? Can you hear them?"

She threw her head back, but didn't answer. The monitor began to beep again, but not so loudly, this time. As her body started to tremble, Liz shouted out loud, "THEY'RE ALREADY HERE!"

"Why is it beeping now? Does she need another break?"

"Heart rate and BP are up again, but not too high. It's just the body's natural reaction to trauma. She's re-living it."

Red nodded and stroked his thumb across her wrist, from the scar to her radial pulse, and then back again. "You're sure? It's not harming her in any way?"

"She's fine."

"Okay." But Red wasn't quite so trusting of the machines. He wrapped the rest of his fingers around her wrist, resting his thumb over the scar, and his index finger on her pulse, counting and keeping track for himself.

"Elizabeth, who is 'already here'? Are they in the house with you?"

"Men," she whispered, afraid of being heard by the apparitions from her memories.

"Can you see them? Do you recognize them?"

She gasped and shook her head.

_***Another Man: WHERE IS IT?_

_Woman: Split up, guys. Start in the basement and work your way up. Go through EVERYTHING. _

_She held on to the bunny and squeezed it harder and harder. They'd soon find her. She knew it. From the other side of the door the argument between the woman and the first man seemed to have stopped. All she could hear was frenzied scuffling and rummaging sounds coming from several directions at once. _

_Until_

_Another Man: I don't think it's here._

_Woman: KEEP LOOKING._

_The sounds drew nearer._

_She knew that Daddy had said NO, but she had to go. She had to get daddy and go NOW before they found her. _

_Before they found her and The F- OH!***_

"You have to go. They'll get you. You have to get out," she sobbed, apparently talking to her younger self.

Red knew what she'd find if she kept going that way, so he tried to intervene. "No, Lizzie. Don't. You don't want to go out there. Please. You don't want to see that. The Fulcrum isn't there. You need The Fulcrum. Where is it, Lizzie? GO BACK. GO BACK."

Her only response was to squeeze his hand even harder, and he knew that there was nothing else that he could do about it.

She had heard him though.

She did.

He was almost certain.

But she was ignoring him, searching for her own truth, searching for the things that he didn't want her to know.

_***She opened the door and ran to the kitchen. A gunshot sounded, and though she couldn't see who was holding the gun, she witnessed its target's jerking motion and collapse on the floor. _

_Her little feet froze just in time to keep her from running into him as a blood-red stain bloomed across his chest and the stove behind him burst into flames. "DADDY NO!" She screamed, retreating back to the coat closet. _

_She crouched down on the floor, trying to hide. On the other side of the door, she could hear the flames roaring, lots of indistinct shouting, and the scrambled shuffling of feet both above and below. Smoke began to billow through the cracks in the door, and she clutched the rabbit against her face, sobbing and soaking it with tears, tracing her fingertips along the cube-shaped object inside._

_Man: But I JUST HEARD HER! I'm NOT GOING TO LEAVE HER._

_Another man: I DON'T CARE! IT'S NOT WORTH IT. I'M GOING._

_Less than a minute later, the closet door opened, and two large hands grabbed onto hers, lifting her up and into his arms, but she dropped her stuffed animal in the process, and howled for it. "I DROPPED MY BUNNY!" _

_He leaned down to pick it up for her, and collapsed on the ground._

_Lizzie screamed again, and within seconds, another pair of arms scooped her up and moved towards the door. Looking over the man's shoulder, she made out the shape of her would-be rescuer, just barely moving while his coat caught on fire. She screamed again, louder and harder, squirming to free herself._

_As soon as they stepped outside, the man loosened his grip and Lizzie escaped, running back inside to grab her bunny and try to rouse the burning man. She couldn't be sure, but she guessed that he was the one who had claimed to have heard her.***_

Liz's head rolled back and forth across the headrest and tears streamed down her beet-red cheeks. "GET UP! YOU HAVE TO GET UP! COME ON!"

Red's bottom lip quivered as he started to cry as well. Nothing could have prepared him for this moment. He didn't know how vividly it would all roll over him, watching her re-live it all, but he was there.

He was right there with her.

_***Like an oven mitt, she thought that she could extinguish the flames by swatting at them with the sleeve of her pajamas, but her mistake was instantly evident, and she screamed in agony until two men came back to drag both her and the burning man out onto the lawn. _

_Her eyes and lungs stung from the smoke, and burned too much to allow her to really speak. Crouched down on the grass beside the man who was no longer on fire, she clutched the rabbit in one arm and gazed down at her wrist in disbelief. Her red, poly-blend nightgown had melted and embedded itself in the wound. _

_Behind her, the surviving men argued about what to do next, but she couldn't make out most of the words._

_Man: Forget 'em. It's done. We'll be killed for fucking this up. They'll kill us for not getting it. We have to run. _

_Other man: But they're alive. _

_Man: Yeah? And if we try to take them with us, WE'RE DEAD._

_She closed her eyes and clutched the flame-singed bunny while the men rifled through the burned man's pockets, and by the time she opened her eyes again, they were gone. _

_She grabbed the burned man's hand and and put her palm on his cheek. _

_His red-rimmed, grey-green eyes. _

_The smell of his burned flesh, pungent even over the burning house._

_Was he a good man, or a bad one? _

_Either way, he was all she had._

_"What's your name?" she whispered._

_"You can call me Red." ***_

-...-...-...-...-

Out of the ash

I rise with my red hair

And I eat men like air.


	3. Chapter 3

AN - By the end of Lizzie's memory recovery procedure, she still doesn't have all of the answers that she wants, but at least she knows where The Fulcrum is. According to Dr. Gillette, more memories may gradually rise to the surface in her dreams. After that, Dembe makes a new friend, and Red gives Lizzie a special gift.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I'm not too sure about this chapter, but the next one will be more plot-heavy.

I own nothing!

-...-...-...-

"Lizzie, have you found it yet?" Red asked, his forehead accidentally bumping the wires at her temples.

"I..."

"Where is The Fulcrum? Did someone give it to you? Did you see anyone with it? Did someone try to hide it?" He grabbed her hand and kissed a line across her knuckles. Either she was in too deep to hear or reply, or she was ignoring him again.

Dr. Gillette chimed in. "Have you found The Fulcrum, Elizabeth?" But she didn't answer him either.

Red looked up at him sharply, worried.

"It's okay, Mr. Reddington. We can ask her afterwards."

"That's secondary to her health," he snapped. "Is she okay?"

"We'd know if she wasn't."

"Hm." He glanced at his watch and found her pulse, having decided to keep track for himself once again.

_Little Lizzie held on to Red's hand, watching her home burn to the ground while he writhed and moaned in agony. _

_"We have to get out of here," he choked out. _

_"Where are we going?" _

_"Nowhere without- FUCK!- a car." Every word was punctuated by nonsensical, nonverbal sounds of immeasurable pain. She'd never witnessed such gore, and had never personally been hurt so badly either. Shock rounded the sharpest edge of her pain, but it remained whitehot. _

_No more. No more. NO. This was done. She didn't want to see any more of it. That was it. The fire was done. She was done._

_From the depths of her too-lucid hypnagogic state, Liz tried to escape. She willed her mind to return to the present-tense, but failed._

Red was seconds from making a more-than-just-a-little-stern suggestion that the doc bring her back when she started to shake her head and kick her feet. The EKG wasn't alerting, but Red's face must have given something away.

"I think this might be a good place to stop for today." Dr. Gillette offered, just a little too brightly.

Red withheld the reflexive, sarcastic comment that loomed on the tip of his tongue, and offered only a curt nod instead.

With another shot, her beautiful blue eyes opened again, and Red leaned in closely to study them. "Hey, you okay?" He whispered.

She nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

"Do you know where The Fulcrum is?" Dr. Gillette asked.

Liz didn't reply, but her eyes told Red everything he needed to know. "Could you please excuse us, for just a moment?"

"Of course. I'll go get you some more water."

"Thank you," Liz replied, her lips curled into a strained smile.

As soon as they were alone again, Liz squeezed Red's hand urgently. "I know where it is. I have it."

His mouth opened to speak, but he found that there wasn't much to say. Instead, he sighed in relief and gently kissed her on the lips..

"I'm afraid to tell him that I've found it."

"Smart. We can't be too careful. However, he'll probably have as many questions to ask now as he did before we started. You'll need breviloquent answers. Be honest where you can."

"Sure."

The click of the door unlocking signaled Dr. Gillette's return. Liz, still feeling hazy from the sedatives, found her patience lacking. Finding the best laconic responses to his questions came at the price of her usually-polite demeanor.

Dr. Gillette expected that, however, and wasn't fazed by it at all. His unwavering enthusiasm and intrigue only served to further grate her nerves, but she still had a few questions for him as well.

"What about the things that I don't remember? What about everything before that night? Since I remember the fire, if we try again, will I be able to go back even further?"

The doctor nodded thoughtfully. "I'm reluctant to say that it's impossible. Your results have already exceeded those of your predecessors. But... at the same time, I also don't feel comfortable offering hope."

"Oh..." Her shoulders sagged in disappointment.

"There's more though. Many of my patients have reported back that they continued to recover memories within their dreams."

"But how will she distinguish between a dream and a memory that happens to occur within a dream?" Red's brows furrowed.

"Unfortunately," he began, pausing to offer a small smile, "she can't - not with certainty anyhow, but 'a feeling' is said to accompany the actual memories."

"A feeling?" Liz asked, nonplussed.

"Of an ineffable sort."

She wasn't at all happy with that answer. What the hell was she supposed to do if the memories came back as nightmares?

"But that brings me to one last thing, and I think you'll like this. We have a heavily-encrypted forum for our patients to contact one-another and offer support and shared experiences. You'll have to change your password monthly, and you can't access it on public wifi. If you wish to remain fully anonymous within the forum, there's an option to choose a handle, instead of using your name."

"Hmm..." Red nodded his head, considering the merits of such a website. He decided that he liked the idea of having extra support for Lizzie.

Just in case.

-...-...-

After finishing up, they set off in search of Dembe. At attempt to call him from inside of the building yielded nothing.

Red suddenly remembered what Dr. Gillette had said to the daycare woman, about going outside. As much as Dembe loved children, he may have joined them.

Good thinking.

Just beyond the front door, they found him playing frisbee with a shaggy haired dog, but he didn't even see them exit. His eyes were on the woman, Anya, and hers were on him, rather than the children playing nearby. Red and Liz sat down on a bench to watch them all, waiting. He whispered into Liz's ear, "Do you see what I see?" His eyebrows waggled suggestively.

"Let's see how long it takes him to notice us," she replied, equally amused.

They couldn't be sure, but it looked like Dembe was flirting or showing off for the woman. They spoke not a single word, but there was something going on, something being said, for sure. The only real question was, what exactly was it?

Red didn't mind. He'd wanted to wait until Lizzie was a little more 'with it' to leave, when she'd be able to hold on better for the ride back to the jet, anyway. He never spoke the words aloud, but she knew it just the same.

Within minutes, when he caught her shivering a little, he changed his mind and called out to his friend and bodyguard. "Dembe! We're done."

When he turned back and saw them sitting on the bench, his grin briefly wavered and then died on his lips. "Raymond. Agent Keen. How long have you been sitting there?" He looked a little embarrassed.

"Long enough," Liz replied with a knowing smirk, but then added, "No worries though. We're fine."

He called out to Anya, who had returned her attention to the children, and beckoned her to approach with him. "Raymond, Agent Keen, this is Anya."

They shook hands with the woman who enthusiastically smiled at them.

Red's eyes darted back and forth between his friend and Anya, and he quickly decided to lay out a somewhat-absurd offer that he knew would please Dembe, who never would have made such a request himself. "Would you like to go back to Virginia with us, for just a few days, or maybe longer? However long you can miss work, at least. You can return on my jet whenever you'd like."

Her eyes lit up like diamonds and Dembe's jaw momentarily dropped. He knew Red well enough not to question whether or not he'd meant it. His lips pressed together as he turned towards Anya, awaiting her response.

Her whole body seemed to nod with joy, and she turned to gather both the children and Miska, the dog. The trio stood and watched her go back inside, and then waited for her return.

"Sorry, Sam." Red quietly said, shooting a quick glance upward and then an even quicker glance at Liz.

Hah! Of course!

It was all she could do to keep from laughing out loud.

The beautiful woman was both younger than Sam but older than Dembe, and hadn't said a single word. Red and Liz hadn't seen or heard her throat singing, but that was her, wasn't it?

Liz glanced over at Dembe slyly, with the unspoken question in her eyes, and he just shrugged sheepishly.

Sure, why not? Stranger things had happened, after all. God, they happened all the time, with Red around. 'Strange' might as well have been his middle name. What was once a source of annoyance had long-since become a source of entertainment instead. She took it in stride.

After only a few minutes, Anya returned, toting a satchel that may have held some toiletries and a few other small, personal items, but wasn't large enough for clothes. Dembe took her hand and lead her towards their awaiting snowmobiles. If asked, both Red and Liz would have admitted that something about it just seemed right.

"I can take you shopping when we get there," Dembe offered, "so you don't have to go home to pack, if you don't want to."

It was possible that she didn't have climate-appropriate attire anyhow.

"Or," Liz jumped in, "you can just borrow some of my clothes, if you'd prefer. We might be about the same size." Truthfully, she had no idea how big or small the woman was beneath her heavy native attire.

For just a moment, she wondered if Red or Dembe would be paying for the shopping trip. It would be VERY much like Red to give his most-trusted friend carte blanche with his credit card. How much did Red pay him, anyhow? Liz guessed that it was a lot, but could never, ever bring herself to raise the question.

It was none of her business.

The ride back to Red's plane wasn't nearly as exciting as the ride over. Ever mindful of her well-being, Red asked Liz to sit in front of him. With his arms reaching around her waist to grip the handlebar and drive, she was safely boxed in and stabilized. He drove slowly, careful not to jostle her around too much.

She leaned against him heavily as they climbed the stairs to board the jet. She assumed that both couples would sit at opposite ends, but Dembe and Anya sat right across from them instead. "Anya would like to show you something," Dembe said. "It'll help you sleep."

Liz huffed a breathy laugh. "I don't think I'll need any help with that, but alright."

Anya grabbed Dembe's phone, rapidly pressed a bunch of buttons, and then gave it back to him. "She says that she usually does this standing up, so that she can dance, but since we're about to take off, she's gonna sit instead. She doesn't think that it will be as good."

Ohhh... so that's how they've been communicating.

"We'll keep that in mind," Red replied.

Without further hesitation, Anya's jaw lowered, and she began to emit a series of soft, breathy sounds. At first, they came without discernable rhythm, but one soon became established alongside a gradual crescendo.

The air.

The unsteady ebb and flow.

Everything about it painted a steady stream of erotic images,

and yes - she'd have to agree with Sam - it was hypnotic as well.

They all sat back and watched with rapt attention, but within a few short minutes, Liz slumped over and fell into a deep sleep.

They still hadn't discussed her memories yet, not even about the location of The Fulcrum. It was killing Red not to ask, but with great effort, he held his tongue. Lizzie deserved a little rest. She deserved time to process everything. After waiting for so many years, what was a few more hours, anyway?

When Anya tired of performing, Red praised her, "That was absolutely mesmerizing!" eliciting a shy blush and smile. She and Dembe then moved up to the front of the jet, sensing that Red was ready for a little privacy. He reclined the extra-wide seat that he shared with Liz and lovingly pulled her into his arms. His poor darling was OUT COLD. She didn't even stir.

Suddenly, it seemed like a good time to give her something - a gift - that she'd discover as soon as she woke up. Slowly, he reached into the seat behind them and opened his leather satchel, pulling out the small, carefully-hidden jewelry box. After opening it, he took a moment to admire the well-crafted bauble - a heart-shaped locket. His nimble fingers worked the clasp with ease as he gingerly wound a hand around her neck to put it on while she slept.

As soon as he made the plans for his capture in Japan, Red had paid a visit to his favorite jeweler to have the locket custom-made for Lizzie, in preparation for the possibility of his untimely demise.

While he recovered from the explosion, Dembe picked up the quickly-crafted gift. At the size of a silver dollar, it was much bigger than the tiny accents that filled her jewelry box at home. Red hadn't fooled himself into thinking that it would become a part of her everyday wardrobe, but musical lockets don't come any smaller.

One benefit of its enormity was that it offered enough space for its engraving. In tiny cursive, it said, "Lizzie, you have always been worth it, and you still are."

The outside featured a platinum filigree grapevine design accented with garnets. A key on the back wound it up to play a song when opened - The Anniversary Waltz - of course. When opened, it first showed two photographs. Both were of Sam. The first - just before he adopted Lizzie, and the second - just before his cancer returned. And though it wasn't readily apparent, the second photograph was nestled on a thin, hinged platinum leaf that when turned, revealed two photographs of Red himself - both also a 'then' and a 'now'.

He was quite certain of one thing. Giving it to Lizzie after dropping the next bombshell would be a mistake. Though originally purchased with the intent for it to be an apology of sorts, with his survival, Red decided that it deserved a lighter purpose.

Now was good, mostly because he didn't want her to think that he was trying to buy her forgiveness -

For Tom.

Part of him thought that he should have just listened to Dembe, who for months had been trying to coax him, in his very polite and gentle way, to JUST FUCKING TELL HER ALREADY. Then, he wouldn't be scrambling to drum up the proof of his intentions. That proof was his only hope of maintaining her trust.

It still felt tenuous, to him.

Regardless, if he'd told her sooner, she probably would have sent him away already, for real, forever, and without The Fulcrum. Eventually, The Alliance would discover that he didn't have it, and they'd come for her.

To prevent that, Red would have to pre-emptively break a promise that he'd made - to disappear and cease all involvement in her life. He'd have to hire another 'Tom'. That wasn't really a choice -

The alternative would be leaving her all alone, without personal protection, for the first time in her life. And oh, they'd be coming for her, and much harder than ever. Red had a busy week ahead of him.

Step one: Aquire The Fulcrum.

Step two : Deliver it to Borokove.

Step three: Find The Major.


	4. Chapter 4

AN - Hello, my dear readers! In this chapter, Red attempts to explain the events that transformed him from a law-abiding family man into The Concierge of Crime. Lots of hurt and a bit of comfort. Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think. I lovelovelove reviews!

-...-...-...-

Liz nearly slept until touchdown in Virginia.

Red's left arm had been asleep for almost as long.

Upon the first stirrings of consciousness, she became aware of the unusual weight hanging from her neck, causing her eyes to snap open in surprise as her hands flew up to grasp the locket. Unable to recall either seeing it or putting it on, she was first flooded with panic, assuming that the memory extraction had negatively impacted her short-term memory.

Oblivious, Red grinned and pressed a kiss to her temple. "So, what do you think?"

"WHAT IS THIS? WHERE DID IT COME FROM?"

"Whoa, whoa sweetheart." He pulled her close, taken aback by her reaction. "It's a gift, from me. I thought you'd like it. I put it on you while you slept." Hurriedly, he released his hold on her and unclasped the necklace, dangling it for better assessment.

"Oh..." She expelled a deep breath and visibly softened, taking the locket from his hand. "I was - I thought it was a bad reaction to the procedure.. that I just couldn't remember you giving it to me... And anyway, why? Why are you giving it to me?"

Red felt awful. Negligent, even. "I'm sorry, I - I didn't even think of that."

"No, don't be. I think I'm just feeling overly-sensitive right now. Emotional. Maybe it's just the drugs wearing off... but this is - it's beautiful, Red. Thank you." She turned it over in her hands, inspecting it closely. "Ahhh," she cooed upon noting the key in the back, and then immediately twisted it. With her eyes watering over the inscription, she opened it, triggering the song to play. Her hand flew up to her mouth as she choked on a sob. "I - I really miss him."

"Shhh it's okay... I know. I know, and that's one of the reasons that I'm giving you this... Sam was such a remarkable man, truly one of a kind. I miss him too."

"And the other reason?"

"The other, well... I had instructed Dembe to give it to you, in the event that I..." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "If I didn't survive The Factory."

It was at precisely that moment that she discovered the hidden second page, with the photos of Red himself. In spite of his macabre confession, a tiny smile tugged at her lips at the sight of a younger Red. Handsome, as expected, and with thick, dark blond hair, and glasses.

Seemingly reading her mind, he offered, "I had lasik surgery."

She nodded. "Too bad. The glasses looked good on you."

"Of course they did," he replied, flashing a cocky grin. "But they also signaled a physical weakness. On my side of the law, it's almost an invitation for the wrong people to take their shot, and you've seen my body. They don't always miss..."

His last remark refocused her attention to the darker topic at hand. "I would have hated you if that happened - if you never made it back."

"I know, but as the inscription says, it would have been worth it. I'm sorry for the way that it makes you feel, but I would still do it over and over again, and it would still be worth it to me - to Sam, too."

She sniffled and brushed a tear away. As she began to put it back on, Red held out a hand to stop her. "No. Allow me."

So, she did.

-...-...-...-

Because Liz felt well-rested from sleeping during the flight, they immediately went to her storage locker from the hangar. Dembe drove, and Anya sat in the front with him while Red and Liz spoke quietly in the back seat. In this moment, Red would have asked Liz about what she'd learned in Nunavut, but instead she jumped into it unprompted, bouncing from calm to distressed within seconds.

"Do you remember my stuffed bunny?"

He sighed. "Vividly."

"Because I dropped it, and you - you fell, when you tried to pick it up for me. Smoke inhalation, I guess."

"Yes."

"That's how you..." She cupped her palm over her mouth and reached out to touch his shoulder with the other hand, unable to finish the sentence.

"So, you remember running back inside, saving me. You didn't have to."

She closed her eyes and rapidly shook her head. "I would have died in that closet, if not for you. After my dad, I... I was too scared to come out."

Red scooted closer and pulled her into his arms. "You were very brave."

"You should have left that stupid bunny."

"No." He shook his head. "It was all you had. Both of your parents were dead. A child should always have someone to hold on to, and I had just taken your 'someones'. I wasn't about to let your only 'something' become ashes as well."

"No, Red. I had you."

"Only for the night, and besides monetarily, never again until last year."

"If the argument that I overheard before the fire is any kind of indication of who my parents were or the type of lives that they lived, then I was better off with Sam, anyway. I was safer, with Sam."

From outside of the house, Red himself had also heard part of the argument, but he was very interested in how much of it she recalled. "What did they say?"

"I don't know what any of it means... My mom, she called me 'Masha'. I guess my father was trying to hide me from both her and her employers. He called me 'Elizabeth'. She was a... She was a spy, like Tom. She was... placed - placed in his life to..."

"To protect him."

"That's what she said anyway, but it was like she was trying to explain herself... saying that she loved him, and that she didn't want to do it. It sounded awfully familiar, you know... like Tom."

"Did she say why?"

"Yes. No. Not exactly. I don't know. It sounded like she was there for The Fulcrum, and for me. Not him... And then twenty-something years later, I find out that my own husband was also a spy! I mean, what the hell, Red? Why is this stupid OBJECT dictating my life?"

"Shhh..." He tried to soothe her, rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head before resting his cheek against it. "It's okay. You're going to be okay. The sooner The Fulcrum is out of your possession, the better. No more spies invading your life. No more questioning people's ulterior motives any more than anyone else would." He heaved a sigh and kissed her head again. "Well, except at work. You've built a successful career out of doing something that you didn't even know that you needed to do. Sam was so proud of you."

"It's inside the bunny. That's why you should have left it, and just let it burn. I don't know who put it there. One of my parents, I guess. It could have been either of them."

Unseen and over her head, just a hint of a smile graced his lips. "No, Lizzie... That would have been worse." He paused, searching for the right words to explain the invisible, complicated mess of strings from which they were both inextricably tied and hung.

As succinctly as he could, Red began in earnest, "Right after the fire, in a bid to save their own asses, the other men who were present that night pinned the mission's failure on me. They said that I had escaped with both The Fulcrum and a little girl... What happened next was exactly what I had predicted."

"Still two steps ahead, even when you could hardly move." The awe in her voice was evident.

"Not always... During my convalescence, it took them six months to find me. By then, I'd already gathered enough of the dirt contained within The Fulcrum to convince them that I really had it. Having been in Naval intelligence helped immensely. I lorded the intel over them, threatening a series of sabotages that would be triggered upon my death. They voted to let me keep it, but very narrowly. All this time, The Fulcrum has been the only thing keeping us both alive... Well, that and Alan Fitch.

"Until he died."

"Exactly... In the early days, he and I had bonded. We had a chummy mentor/mentee relationship, and from that came the arrangement that kept your identity a secret. He was the only chairman who knew about you as Elizabeth. To the others, you were just Masha, and as long as they believed that I had The Fulcrum, you were a non-issue."

"And now they're calling your bluff, so they'll kill you and then go after me. I would be the only stone unturned - the only loose string."

"Yes, and soon."

"My... my father said the same thing about The Fulcrum - that it was the only thing keeping him alive."

So, she'd become hung up on that part.

"Yes, well... I don't know the details of his involvement, besides the fact that they either didn't consider him trustworthy enough to have it, or he just didn't know enough about it to effectively use it for blackmail. In any case, it's the reason I was there."

"Because you were part of it."

It wasn't a question. She'd already known about that part, but a familiar edge crept into her voice, causing Red's heartbeat to nervously quicken.

"I was young, upwardly-mobile, and in over my head. What I didn't know was that no one reaches the top without Alliance involvement. The Kingmaker didn't just run his own business. He also worked for them. When they approached to recruit me, they offered up no shortage of attractive benefits. Even the name sounds attractive, doesn't it? 'The Alliance' - like they protect each other. Like they trust each other. I didn't sign on right away."

"Until?" The edge in her voice had only softened slightly.

"It didn't happen overnight. I needed time to think it over, but in the weeks that followed, doors began to open for me, seemingly without provocation. I got a huge raise. My daughter was just about to start kindergarten, and the jurisdictional lines changed where I lived, putting my neighborhood within the boundaries of a better school district. My father's health insurance suddenly covered ALL of his medical care, minus the pittance of a co-pay. All of these things, save the last one, could have easily been written off as either the result of hard work or good fortune."

"But you knew."

"Yes."

"You've left out a sizeable chunk of that story, Red. You gave me the beginning and the end. I'm mostly concerned about the middle."

"I'm afraid the end hasn't been written yet," he replied. His problem wasn't that the omitted parts painted him more poorly, though he was certain that they did. His problem was the emotions that it drew.

The memories.

The regrets.

He sighed, resigned to telling her what he could. "Signing on involved little more than a wink, a handshake, and a celebratory drink. The act of being on, however, was a different story. Again, I was snowed with the fruits of unseen pulled strings, but it wasn't long before those strings came attached to increasingly-nefarious deeds that I myself had to commit."

"Sounds like the mob."

"But worse... Any time l tried to refuse 'a job', they only smiled and sent me on my way, like the decision was perfectly acceptable... but then, inexplicable, bad things followed each refusal. After a few precious years of an idyllic life and marriage, I suddenly had secrets to keep - lots of them."

Liz buried her face into the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply before replying, "I can relate."

"But I still hadn't mastered the mental acrobatics involved in compartmentalizing my senses of both morality and mortality. Getting The Fulcrum was supposed to be my final mission before I'd make Admiral, but it was also the most insidious and dangerous. I was very, very reluctant. Rather than sending someone else immediately, they put three rose stems in my mailbox and scattered the petals around it. Obviously it was some kind of threat to my family. Without a word, they simply delivered the roses and waited for me to react."

"How did you react?"

"As quickly as I could, but not quickly enough. I took out a loan from a loan shark. The next day, December 23rd, I bought a small apartment in Maryland under an alias, paid in cash, planning to move my family there. My wife just wanted one more Christmas in our home... But something else happened on that night - something I couldn't have foreseen... Your father found out that his wife of five years was a spy, and that he was her target."

"Five years. God, I wonder how long Tom would have had me fooled, if not for you..."

Red swallowed the oversized lump in his throat. That was another topic, for another all-too-soon day. "He uprooted you and took you to that house, the one that burned, to hide from your mother and the cabal."

"And they blamed you."

"Yes."

"So... your wife? Your daughter?"

"The basis of the Christmas Eve story in my dossier. I didn't abandon them, but I might as well have. If I'd only insisted on leaving right away, I could have prevented their suffering."

Tentatively, Liz whispered, "What happened to them?" She was afraid to lift her head and look into his eyes, knowing the anguish she'd find, but she tried anyway. Extracting herself from his arms, she placed a hand at the back of his head, gently raking her fingers through his soft, short-cropped hair.

But Red couldn't look at her as he continued, and instead closed his eyes, both seeing and feeling the tragedy as freshly as ever. "I don't know. On Christmas Eve, on my way home, it was snowing heavily, and I was so excited to get home that I gave no notice to my low gas gague. It was directly in front of me, but I didn't even think to check it. I ran all the way home through the snow, oblivious to the cold. I felt warm - warm enough, just thinking about them. But when I -"

"They were gone."

Bowstring-taut, Red's entire body seemed to nod, "It was just... blood. All I saw was blood. Blood everywhere... I searched every square inch of the house, frantic, looking for any kind of clue. I slipped and fell on the wet hardwood, and I was just covered in their bl - It was all over my clothes, my hands, and it was still warm."

A choked sob sounded from the front seat, and Liz looked up sharply, startled. Of course Anya and Dembe had been listening. She'd simply forgotten about them.

Running out of gas, being only minutes too late... No wonder Red's speed and attention to detail were so sharply honed. He'd learned the hard way.

No. The hardest.

Liz wrapped her arms around him just as he had done so many times for her, but said nothing and waited for him to go on.

Eyes still closed, he continued, "I wasted no time contacting The Alliance. They said only that I already knew what I had to do, but added that 'the price' had gone up. Since she was also to blame for your father's disappearance with The Fulcrum, they wanted me to take out your mother too. She didn't know that, but she probably should have figured it out. I had to work with her to find him."

"So she really did die in shame..."

"Yes... her's, your father's, and mine."

"I almost feel sorry for her."

"Well, I do. I certainly do... anyway, it turns out they had no intention whatsoever of divulging what had become of my wife and daughter. I dropped off the map not just to hide from them, but also to find the answers for myself. Alan Fitch wasn't at the top at the time. He didn't know. Diane Fowler recently claimed to know... I don't believe her. But if she did, then someone else does too."

"Isn't she dead?"

He opened his red-rimmed eyes to give her this truth, confident that she'd keep it to herself. "Yes."

"I thought so."

"But that brings us to another problem. Trusting Alan Fitch. It turns out, and this should come as no surprise, that he wasn't the only one who knew about who you are now. You remember Harold's friend, Tom Connolly? I'd have left him to The Judge if I could. What you don't know is that he's responsible for Harold's acceptance into the clinical trial that's saving his life. There's a reason for that, and it has very little to do with goodwill or a desire to help a dying friend."

"Jesus Christ."

"To become the Attorney General, he has just one more mission... the same one given to me."

"The Fulcrum. That's why he's helping Cooper? To learn more about the taskforce, and you?"

"It's not so much about learning as it is about leverage. If we've judged his character accurately, he'll risk getting himself pulled from the trial in order to protect the taskforce and keep it going."

"I think you're right."

"If we want to stay alive and keep Harold in the clinical trial, we'll have to go straight to the man pulling Connolly's strings. He'll regret calling my bluff." Red shook his head and chuckled.

"Who?"

"The Director."


End file.
